ur being mean
nobody is coming to save me. at least, not in the “hand from God, epiphany from the Heavens” way that my nervous system is counting on. i think and i think and i overthink, and then i assume the words will find an eloquent way out of my mouth, into the world. that one evening i’ll be with him, tipsy, and use the second bottle of red wine as an excuse to say the words i’ve been wanting to say, but with palatable, perfectly polished, just-enough-drunk-silliness to excuse any real emotional depth that might fall out behind them.
so me and him - we stay in this horrific, beautiful, disgusting dance. keeping one foot out the door in case the other decides to run. if he does, i’m already halfway gone, and i can pretend that was the plan the whole time. so i bite my tongue and i try not to say anything Too Real. and all the while i’m silently begging him to admit what we are. let’s be honest, friends don’t do what we do. friends don’t say what we say. and it gets to a point where i’ve spilled out so much of myself onto him that it’s getting hard to distinguish what’s mine. i could walk away now, but i would be left with pieces of him, like cat hair stuck in your wool sweater, like wine on a white t-shirt, like grape juice on my bedsheets, embedded into the fabric of who i am or who i will turn into.
there is no going back, but if the fear of moving forward paralyzes us both, limbo is the result. being indefinitely tortured by the what ifs and the what if nots and the peculiar quiet comfort of being suspended in this place, even if it only lasts a few minutes.
i constantly wonder if he’s aware of the difficult position he’s put me in… stuck in this place where i can love him up to the acceptable amount and nothing more. i feel like a five-year-old, a child stomping their foot, needing answers and attention and getting neither. i want to tell him he’s not invited to my birthday party! i want to tell him ur being mean! i want to scream something from the top of my lungs, but i don’t know what it is i want to say. why cant he say it?
so nobody is coming to save me. is it better to speak or better to die? i will let you know the answer when i figure it out.
